


The Professor and the Showgirl

by sg_wonderland



Series: The Professor and the Showgirl [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU Daniel/Vala.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Professor and the Showgirl

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: I read an online speculation about a possible (one can only hope!) sitcom starring Michael Shanks and Claudia Black. Which led to my speculating about it being a bit of an extension of Daniel/Vala. Which led me here.

Dr. Daniel Jackson, multiple PHD-holder, esteemed fellow academician, adored teacher, looked forward to the beginning of each new semester with a freshman-like enthusiasm that he hoped he never lost. Learning was, for him, more, much more, than a job. It was a window which never closed, his passion, his raison d’etre, the one thing that had never deserted him. People, he’d found, came and went but knowledge stayed with you forever. It had taken him several painful losses but he’d finally learned that one.

He was rapidly closing in on thirty but could easily pass for one of his own students. His home was a staid brick house that had belonged to his grandparents a stone’s throw from campus. Although change was inevitable, Daniel had struggled to keep the hundred-year-old house’s original footprint intact, although he suspected his grandmother would have gotten a laugh out of her day parlor being turned into an office full of modern equipment, that he chatted online, graded papers and perused faxes mere inches from the French doors leading onto her exquisitely decorated side-porch. 

Most of his colleagues knew that he was directly descended from the school’s founder; his students either didn’t know or didn’t care. All they knew was that he was a teacher who had the extraordinary gift to make a potentially boring subject like history spring to life. Long dead pharaohs and explorers breathed and lived and could be discussed and examined.

Students lined up to take Dr. Jackson’s history classes.

*

As he walked to campus on an already sweltering morning, he noticed idly that the Sherman’s had sold their house and he wondered if the university had coughed up the incredulous price their grandson and sole heir had decided the house was worth. The university, always looking to expand their cramped campus, had been outraged at the seven-figure sale price. 

Daniel spied a moving van; someone must have met the price and wouldn’t President Charles be pissed? Daniel found himself smiling all the way to class.

*  
He was still in a good mood as he walked home after his afternoon classes. By keeping his ears open and his mouth closed, he’d managed to find out that the university had lost the option on the old Sherman place and the board of regents were said to be livid over the loss. Daniel decided he didn’t really care if it meant they would finally give old Charles the heave-ho. Yes, he’d been a good president in his times, but the problem was he hadn’t kept up with the times. He’d fought every technological change the board had insisted on. No, Charles needed to take the 4:15 to Boca Raton and let someone younger take over the job. 

Names were already being bandied around by the faculty and the executive staff were jockeying for positions, a fact that didn’t interest Daniel in the least. He didn’t care who they got, as long as it was someone who understood the future they were preparing these children for. Yes, Dr. Jackson took interested students on summer digs and there they did most of the work the old-fashioned way. But he wasn’t above using ground sonar or helicopters or satellite imagery or whatever it took to carefully and correctly excavate and preserve the site.

He also wasn’t above embracing technology, especially when it improved his life, he thought as the cool of the air-conditioning hit him as he opened the front door. Yes, you could live in southern Georgia without air-conditioning but it was a blessing to have it. He draped his battered leather back-pack over the newel post, locked up behind him and headed for a shower followed by a very large glass of sweet tea.

Dressed in old jeans that he wouldn’t have been caught in public wearing teamed with a plain white button-down, Daniel carried the tea tray into his office. Yes, it might just have been him, but that didn’t mean he let civility lapse. The tray was large and silver plated as were the ice tongs and bucket, the linens were Irish, the pitcher and glasses were cut-crystal and were the same service his great-grandmother had used when her beaus came courting.

It was, therefore, a good thing he had carefully placed the service on the coffee table before he glanced out the French doors. Because, if he wasn’t mistaken, someone was reclining on the chaise lounge, drinking what looked to his incredulous eyes like a beer. From the bottle.

He eased his way over, keeping hidden behind the curtains. Yes, there was someone, a woman he realized, on his side porch. Unlocking one of the doors and opening it a crack, he shouted, “I’ve called the police!”

She took her time turning to look at him. “Daniel, darling, is that any way to greet an old friend?” 

He slowly closed his eyes; he had hoped he’d never hear that voice again. Ever.

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s ever so hot out here.” She slithered to her feet and sashayed toward the door.

With a sigh that went all the way to his bare feet, Daniel stood back and motioned her in. “Thanks, is it always this hot here?” She held her long mane of hair up and fanned her neck.

“Most people,” he observed as he closed the door firmly behind her, “don’t wear leather pants in Georgia in August.”

She grinned at him without remorse. “So nice of you to notice what I’m wearing.” Her long fingers snaked down his cheek before he jerked himself backward. “I have missed you. I’ve dreamed about that accent of yours.” The way he’d softened his R’s had driven her mad upon occasion.

“Would you like to tell me what you’re doing here?” He poured himself a glass of tea and his impeccable manners forced him to hand it to her before pouring another one.

“I told you, I’ve missed you.” She sank onto the small settee like a cat settling itself in, he saw with dismay, for a very long nap. “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed me?”

“Never gave you a second thought,” he lied with an icy smile.

“Well, unfortunately, we have business to conduct and I thought it best to do so out of the public glare. But if you’d like, we can air our tawdry past for the denizens of your quaint hometown.”

“I can’t think of any business we have to conduct, Vala. That was over a long time ago.”

“Well, darling, I thought so, too. But unfortunately, we may have hit a bit of a snag.”

Daniel sat heavily; he just knew this was something he needed to be seated for. “Define snag.”

She took a long greedy gulp of tea. “This is wonderful! Just a teeny, tiny problem. Almost non-existent really.”

“Yet, it’s existent enough for you to look me up and trespass in my yard?”

“It seems the divorce isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”

His glass landed on the coffee table with a decided thump and without the requisite coaster. “What?”

“The divorce. It isn’t legal. We’re still married, darling.”

Daniel blinked slowly at the condensation chasing down the glass. He really needed to put that on a coaster before it ruined the finish, he thought dully. “Daniel?”

His eyes never left the glass. “Not divorced?”

“No, still married.” She watched his glazed expression for a minute. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Grabbing the silver coasters, she rescued the table’s glossy finish. “So, that leads us to yet another problem.” With a frown, she slapped his arm. “Wake up.”

He jerked his glasses off his face and covered his eyes with his arm, leaning back, resting his head on the settee back. “Can this possibly get any worse?”

“Well,” she drew the word out. “Maybe not for me, but you? That’s a distinct possibility.”

“Vala, just spit it out,” he begged.

“Okay, well, I’ve been in Vegas since we….well, you know, split.”

His arm slid away from his face. “Let me guess, you were dancing?”

“Of course,” she stretched her limbs in front of her. “With these legs, what else would I do?”

He forced himself to the sideboard and grabbed a decanter of whiskey. He had a feeling iced tea wasn’t going to be strong enough for this story. After pouring two drinks, he hesitated, then brought the decanter back with him. “Did you at least have your clothes on?”

“Not all of the time,” she admitted cheerfully, accepting the glass.

He groaned before draining his glass and pouring another generous measure. “And?”

“And, well, I was fooling around in the casino a couple of weeks ago.” She frowned at his expression. “Not that kind of fooling around!” He waved his hand for her to continue. “I was playing a slot machine. And I won.”

“You won?”

“Yeah. Quite a lot actually. Which, of course, meant that I could quit dancing, which I was quite sad to do really. But anyway, I hired a lawyer to advise me about what to do with the money and he asked if there was anyone else who might be able to lay claim to the money and I told him I’d been married but we were divorced. So he investigated and he found out that the divorce had never been filed so...”

“Vala, I don’t want any of your money. Go divorce me and be happy.”

“See, the thing is, we can go get a quickie divorce in Vegas, but…”

“Las Vegas being where you won all the money to begin with…”

“The press is almost certain to get wind of who I am...”

“…And who I am…”

“And I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for you.”

He looked at her, really looked at her for the first time. To him, she didn’t look any older than she had ten years ago when they’d been two crazy college students with too many hormones, not enough sense and a long weekend. Gently he spoke. “Don’t worry about me, Vala. I’m glad for you, really I am. You just do what you need to do.”

“My lawyer says I have to live in the same state as you for a year and then quietly apply for a divorce. No one needs to know. I’ll just keep a low profile.”

“Yeah, like you’ve ever been able to do that.”

“Darling! I’m hurt! I’ll just live in my nice little house..”

Daniel’s brain had already connected the dots. “Which just happens to be two doors away from mine?”

“I know, wasn’t that an amazing coincidence? I’ll just blend right in here in your little town. Join that nice church I passed on the way in to town, find out if there’s a book club at the library, ooh, I might even take a class or two, maybe finish up my degree.” Her enthusiasm sent shivers up his spine. “When you see me out in public, you can just act like you don’t even know me.”

Daniel splashed more whiskey into both glasses. “God, it’s gonna be a long year.”


End file.
